May

It's a little frightening, this living in limbo. Uncertainty. Going to the lake, of course, helps to centre things a bit, and you start to remember what is really important in life- family, loved ones. Books, card games, hard work, relaxation. Good food. Icy snow-melt swims. Walks through the woods with conversation about everything, while acting like children swinging sticks and throwing rocks in rivers. The 11 hour drive makes it almost a spiritual destination, where you must encounter trials and tribulations in order to reach your peaceful, holy destination.
Coming back, my brother and I spent almost the entire 11 hours listening to radiolab podcasts, and that helped the time fly.

It's green here in the city. My house is dark, now, with any light filtering in the windows yellow and jungle-esque. It would sound damp and verdant, but this is E-town, and therefore we haven't had rain in weeks and the gardens are dry and dying, and the whipping winds blow dust-devils of dirt in your eyes. It's an odd combination to behold. Life, trying so hard to thrive, and the elements tortuously denying them what they need.
Today might rain though.
Last night was my first shift at Fort Ed park, and I rode my bike there and back. Coming home late was terrifying, because I took a riverside trail, and there were no lights. I kept on imagining shapes jumping out of the woods, and then half way up the hill my pedal broke and I felt panicky. I never saw a single soul, but that wasn't comforting- instead, it made me more wild-eyed and twitchy. I don't think I'll take that route again.

Come Soon Spring

(sister D, late August '09)

A lazy hour we snatched from our structured schedules and spent it wisely, laying on the grass, in the sun, in the wind, discussing gender politics in society and Wes Anderson films, and every once in a while sighing and closing our eyes and heliotrophing towards the sun.

The Kooks played from his cracked ipod and across the field a boy with strange brown hair and white sunnies romanced a guitar into spilling forth the sweetest sounds.

Spring comes late in the North, and every morning I check the tree outside my window for buds, for little cracks of green that show yes, life is coming, and I don't tell people this but in my head I talk to the tree, encourage it, say "Please, let spring be here soon".

"We'll make an exception for you" he said with a smile that made me catch my breath, and it reminded me of almost two years ago when we were so in sync that our thoughts would get tangled and pull us under and we almost drowned, and that's why it didn't work out. It makes us friends now, but on a level that could easily slip back to what it formerly was and so be slow, proceed with caution, and watch your step.

I need a blood transfusion, a whole batch of new blood, I think.

To echo the new, the freshness of spring.

Please, let spring be here soon.